


if i lose myself tonight (it'll be by your side)

by hopefulundertone



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:58:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3867916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It feels like he can finally breathe again. In his world of fire and blood and rage, it's a respite, a cold wind, clean and crisp and completely disarming, like he's vulnerable again, because he can bury his head in the crook of Foggy's neck and let himself go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if i lose myself tonight (it'll be by your side)

It feels like he can finally breathe again. In his world of fire and blood and rage, it's a respite, a cold wind, clean and crisp and completely disarming, like he's vulnerable again, because he can bury his head in Foggy's neck and let himself go.   
When the city sounds start to swirl into an incoherent mess and the devil in him sticks its horns in his throat and growls, and Matt wants to go home and clean the blood off his knuckles and crumple in on himself and lie in bed listening to the rot in his heart eat away at him, he finds Foggy, and everything about him screams home. He breaks into his apartment past midnight, through the window Foggy keeps unlocked at night just for him, and breathes. He can't see Foggy past a blurry shape, but everything else about him is so real, so anchoring, from the yawn he stifles as he pads out of his bedroom and the gasp he doesn't when he sees Matt to the soft linen of his sweatshirt, to the feeling of his warm, careful fingers against Matt's sides as he stitches him up, making tired jokes as he does, and the feeling of his messy-soft hair against Matt's cheek when he leans down to rest it on his head, all of it screams home, like Matt can crawl into the space between Foggy's heart and ribs and he'll finally be at peace with his warring selves.   
And when it all gets too much, when the lady down the street is crying because her daughter just slapped her and walked out, and the man in the room two floors above is getting drunk off his ass because today was their wedding anniversary and she's gone and the man never got to tell her so many things, things that he's whispering to his whiskey, too little too late, and the siren speeding around the corner is for a teenager who just got taken advantage of by his friend, and then left to bleed out, and he can't do anything to help any of them, he clings to Foggy tightly and loses himself in the feeling of his skin against Foggy's, the sound of his breathing, quiet and consistent, anchoring himself to Foggy's heartbeat against his chest, strong and steady. Foggy's arms wrap around him too, holding him close, soft lips pressing against Matt's forehead and fingers running through his hair slowly.   
Being with Foggy feels like redemption. He's always thought he deserves fire and condemnation, the devil inside him, that he needs the blood and the feeling of nails raking down his back, of teeth sinking into his neck, all fury and fighting and pain, and he can't deny that his blood sings when it's a battle, but he won't poison Foggy, he can't.   
(when he needs the pain, the fight, when he's restless as all hell and he needs to rip something apart or be ripped apart, when the devil in his chest rears its head and howls and tears up his insides, he goes out and finds someone who will give him absolution; tear the penance from behind gritted teeth, or otherwise just lies in his own bed and curls in on himself, and thinks of a velvet voice refusing to give a name.)   
But after he's spent and the fight has left his limbs, Matt gives himself up, entrusting himself into Foggy's capable hands, and it terrifies him how easy it is, how much he wants to relinquish his control. And Foggy lays him down and takes him apart slowly, piece by piece, trailing kisses soft and sweet down his spine, whispering his love into the crook of Matt's neck, forgives him over and over with every breath, and then puts him back together again, holding him as he shakes. Somehow, it hurts infinitely more than teeth and nails ever would.  
Then, in the morning, when Foggy wakes him with a kiss on the forehead and a murmured greeting, he can breathe easy again.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know, unbetaed and written when i was half asleep.


End file.
